


wisdom teeth

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: M/M, bit of a mass shooting, bit of sexy stuff, cuz I have, geek squad logan paul speaking, have you guys noticed how logan paul looks like dylan klebold, inspired by molly xx, wrote this in an hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: logan has been running from his past for ten years, and then eric catches up.
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris/Logan Paul
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	wisdom teeth

**Author's Note:**

> what have i written

“... dylan?”

logan froze. no one had called him that in… forever. not since 1999. 

people had joked, said he looked like one of the missing columbine fugitives, said he should totally get a dna test. but no one had explicitly made the connection.

logan turned, a wide smile on his face. “talking to me? i’m logan, logan paul!” he gave his widest smile, throwing out his hand for the person to shake. 

eric harris’ eyes stared right back at him. 

“i think i know my mallory when i see him,” eric snapped back, his hair shaven and his uniform giving away the fact he was now in the military. or maybe a vet.

“sorry, i really don’t know what you’re talking about,” logan smiled sympathetically, placing his hand comfortingly on eric’s shoulder.  _ k. harris.  _ eric hadn’t stolen kevin’s identity… surely not? logan shook his head. no. he wasn’t dylan anymore. he was logan paul.

and jake paul, when the situation demanded it. keeping up one overly boisterous personality was hard enough, but when too many whispers started to spread, logan had needed a backup plan. an alibi for the years of his life before colum-

he didn’t mention that anymore. sue had desperately tried to get in contact so many times, and it made logan’s heart ache, trying to keep her at arm’s length, publicly calling her crazy. god, no mom should have to be treated like that by her own-

he wasn’t her son. fuck! logan, keep it together.

eric’s eyes were still boring into the side of his head, a hard sneer on his face.

“i know it’s you dylan. don’t be dickin’ me around now, i remember what we did together,” eric snapped when logan turned to walk away. 

logan stopped, looking over his shoulder. “look man, i respect soldiers, but you might want to get your head looked at. im not mallory, or dylan. i’m logan paul, from right here in good ol’ cleveland,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure how of how much eric had mellowed since they’d last…

* * *

“fuck! eric, please…!” dylan gasped out, his fingers scrabbling at the steamed up window. he couldn’t get any purchase on the hot glass, his nails scratching down. 

eric let out a laugh, a low, eric-y laugh. he was far gone too, but still maintained his control, the promises of a gentle hump having turned into a violent bareback. “please what, dyl? if i fuck ya any harder, you’ll go straight through the window,” eric drawled out, pulling back dylan’s hips in time with his thrusts.

“ugh! just fuckin’, come on!” dylan whined, his head jerking back after eric sunk his bitten nails into his scalp.

“yeah? want me to-“

a loud bang interrupted eric, and the two boys swore loudly. “it’s fuckin’ ten minutes early, you stupid slut!” eric screamed, pulling dylan’s head to the side and slapping him clean across the face.

dylan yelped, kicking his legs back. “you were supposed to check them!” he yelled back, struggling to pull his pants on. eric scoffed, pulling his shirt on and reaching into the boot to grab his coat, the heaviness catching him off guard a little.

“oh shut the fuck up,” eric snapped, the sounds of screaming filling the air outside. “we’re missing our chan-“

a second, large, louder bang echoed through the cold april air, and suddenly the sound of creaking and crumbling overshadowed the screams. eric rolled his eyes, rubbing a circle in the foggy driver’s window to peek outside.

“shit. dylan, forget the guns, we need to get out of here,” eric whispered, watching students bang on the library windows as parts of the floor began falling through the cafeteria roof. “cops are already arrivin’, we ain’t gonna get many more casualties.”

dylan gaped at eric. what the fuck? this was supposed to be dylan’s big suicide! “eric-“

eric threw open the door, looked behind him one last time and started to join the running, screaming students.

dylan stared after him, before lacing up his boots and opening the door. it would be a little harder for him to blend in… but he imagined since no one knew it was him yet…

dylan ducked between john savage and some art teacher, and followed the group, not bothering to look for eric. fuck eric! asshole fucking left him to clean up their shit! 

the mass group splintered at the intersection as some ran for home, while others ran for the bus stop. dylan stopped for a moment, looking around him. they didn’t know it’d been them yet, but the cops would soon. especially after the bomb in dylan’s car had blown.

his wallet was in his glove compartment, else dylan would’ve gone straight for the nearest car dealership and ask to take a test drive. he felt the clink of some coins in his pocket. dylan could go anywhere…

* * *

logan paul arrived in cleveland, ohio on the 22nd april, 1999. logan, dylan decided (after picking names randomly from an nra booklet), had recently been orphaned with a large inheritance stolen by his wicked uncle. his brother, jake was arriving… soon. jake simply needed to scrape together the cash.

dylan was surprised at people’s generosity. his insistence on no press was respected, out of fear his uncle would track him down to hopefully cash in two extra life insurance cheques. dylan didn’t care claim on his own life insurance, despite the temptation while huddling for warmth.

but a neighbourhood association allowed him to stay in a condemned property, as long as dylan was willing to work to renovate it. he applied for a new birth certificate, claiming a mistake from the orphanage that meant they hadn’t collected it when his father had died. a new social security number was issued, and dylan was able to gain a job working as it support.

he coached himself to not slip up answering the phone. dylan, a coworker (that no one else saw) handled logan’s calls sometimes.  
  


the hardest part though was the empty bed. cutting his hair was a close second, but nothing stopped the ache in his heart when he rolled over and felt nothing but the cold pillow next to him. there was no eric plastering himself to dylan’s back, no mouse pad being slapped across his face at 7am. the house creaked, and dylan liked to pretend that it was eric sneaking upstairs after a midnight snack, or returning from the bathroom.

but as the years passed, dylan realised he was living in a dreamland. eric had abandoned him at their finest hour.

dylan decided to abandon dylan.

* * *

logan found it far far easier to lie when he left his past behind. but now eric harris was standing in front of him, 10 years having done a serious number on the corner of his eyes.

“look, dylan, i get why you’re lying, but it’s me! you can be honest with me,” eric seemed to be almost begging, not caring to look around him. no one else was at the bus stop, not even any of logan’s co-workers. but logan still wanted to tell eric to be quiet.

dylan klebold had caused the death of 188 people. logan paul was just an it consultant with a vague childhood and a habit of pulling pranks. 

“i don’t know who you are, or who this dylan guy is, but i’m gonna walk away now,” logan turned on heel, beginning to walk towards the other bus stop at the end of the street. 

“vodka!”

logan stopped in his tracks. dylan turned around.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title: wisdom teeth by frank turner


End file.
